El Dorado Motel
Pomona, CA
1200 Hours PST
Alan felt the second screw drop out of the panel and hit the top of the nightstand. He shook out his fingers and returned to work on the third. He'd been careful to pull the screws from opposite corners so it still looked like it was screwed in, just in case he got caught. He swept the screw off the nightstand onto the floor.
Maybe I'll get lucky and Langager'll step on it.
He thought about his boys. He hoped that the tentative relationship the two of them had built didn't fragment and explode with all of this. He knew that the first time Don had ever asked Charlie for help on a case, it had taken a lot for him to bring him in. Some of that was old childhood competition-big brother, top athlete, did not want to ask genius little brother for assistance. He also knew how happy it made Charlie to be asked to do anything by his big brother. It wasn't the best, safest way for his sons to bond, Alan knew, but it was working. Their fractured relationship was being rebuilt. Don was realizing Charlie could take care of himself, that he was more mature, and he had confidence in himself and his skills that was more now than childhood cockiness in mathematics. And Charlie was realizing his big brother did respect him and what he could do. That they had more in common in adulthood than they thought.
And…he swallowed as the third screw popped. And if something happens to me, they'll need each other. They can't lose each other.
Knock it off, Alan, he could almost hear Margaret scolding him, could see Don giving him the eye and Charlie pleading with him. Focus on what you're doing.
"Doin' a little repair work there, Alan?"
The elder Eppes froze, and looked up to see Langager leaning in the doorway, his FBI lackey behind him.
Somewhere on I-10
1220 Hours PST
Don's phone rang somewhere between the office and Alhambra. Don yanked it out of its holder in the air vent and flicked it open. "Eppes."
"You Eppes's are all alike, you know that?"
"Yeah really? How's that?" Don asked. Something in the pit of his stomach told him he wasn't going to like where this was going.
"Your dad tried to pull an escape," Langager informed him. "Admirable effort, but sad to say, he didn't make it."
Don's hand gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. His shoulder throbbed with every bump on the interstate. "He better still be alive, Langager. Or I'm coming in there locked and loaded," he threatened. Not a threat. A promise.
There was a pause on the end of the line. Everything on the highway seemed to slow down outside the windows. In the passenger's seat, David raised an eyebrow as if to say Need me to take the wheel?
Don shook his head. "Let me talk to him," Don ordered Langager on the other end of the line.
There was still silence.
"Langager!" Don yelled into the phone.
In the SUV behind Don and David, Colby pushed a little harder on the gas to catch up with Don's lead foot.
"You found me again, didn't you?" Langer's voice was curious, and yet, almost resigned.
"You bet your ass we did," Don replied. "And I'm tellin' you right now if anything's happened to my dad, your 'new life' isn't gonna last very long."
The silence on the end of the phone was killing Don, and Langager was milking it for all it was worth.
"See you when you get here," Langager said, and hung up the phone.
"Damn it!" Don tossed his phone up on the dash. It stuck between the windshield and the front dash. He slammed a fist on the wheel.
Los Angeles FBI Field Office
That same time
"See you when you get here."
Charlie swiped Langager's case files off the top of the conference table with one arm. Paper went flying everywhere. The mathematician pressed a fist to his mouth as he paced the room. Amita watched him from her chair, out of the line of fire. She watched him lean against the glass walls of the conference room. A few agents that were in the office looked up at the commotion, but made no move to check on the two of them.
Probably best, Amita thought. Charlie might start swinging. He and Don are more alike than they realize.
Charlie hated the feeling of helplessness. At this point, he'd done everything he could do, and now it was Don's job to take care of the rest.
A photo caught his eye. Crime scene photos from CSU from Langager's victims. Don didn't want me seeing these. But he couldn't help it, his eye was drawn to the photos.
Now he knew why Don didn't want him near this case. Now he knew what Langager was truly capable of. He understood what Don was up against.
His father was in the hands of a madman. Oh, God!
Amita was on the floor in an instant, Charlie hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud. Amita pulled the photo from his hand and wrapped him in her arms as Charlie shoulders heaved. Amita started praying to whatever deity was listening that Don found Alan all right, and that Don and his team would come back safe.
And, she thought, comforting her boyfriend, if Langager and Locke came back in body bags, Amita was fine with that, too.
